Midnight in the Garden of Good and Evil (16 page)

“Soon as I get this engine running, I’ll come in. I promise. You go ahead.”

Chablis turned away with a mock pout. “My engine’s already runnin’, baby, but that’s okay. You go play with your car. I’ll be havin’ lunch with my new chauffeur.” She linked her arm in mine. “Come on, child, keep me company.”

I was so taken by the situation at this point that I could not muster even a polite refusal. I gave in at once, and in a few moments we were sitting in Chablis’s living room having a plate of tuna salad and a glass of Coca-Cola. The apartment was light and airy and comfortably furnished. The front windows looked out through the foliage of a magnificent oak into the square. There were two matador prints on the wall, a shag rug on the floor, and an Aretha Franklin record playing softly on the stereo. From the sofa where she sat, Chablis could look out a side window and see Jeff working on the car in the street below.

“My baby treats me like a goddess!” she said. “He leaves little notes all over the house sayin’ how much he loves me. And I tell you, he is some kinda good up under them covers! The man is out to please, honey, and he does just that to The Doll!” Chablis stirred the ice in her Coke with her finger. “He’s straight, you know. He’s not gay. He attracts both men and women, but he’s only into women. ‘Course, my friends say, Well, how can he be straight if he goes with you? And I say, As long as I’m gettin’ my fair share, I ain’t gonna be askin’ why.”

She took a sip of her Coke and licked her lips.

“What sort of men do you attract?” I asked.

“That depends what’s goin’ on with me and my hormone shots. I’ve gone on them and off them, and they make a big difference. When I’m on them I attract very masculine men—men with girlfriends, men with wives and children. When I go off them for a while, my masculinity comes back a little and I get to
feelin’ like a tomboy. That’s when I attract the gays. Parts of me get excited that usually don’t. When I’m in my tomboy mood, watch out, ’Cause I play with everybody, even the nelliest fags. If I think they’re cute, I’m gonna tease and everything. There are times when I can be really butch.”

As she said this, Chablis leaned forward and put her elbows on her knees. The cadence in her voice became more clipped, and the muscles in her face tightened. She moved her head and shoulders now with the jauntiness of a boxer. For the first time, the boy inside of her came to the surface.

“But then I go back to Miss Myra, honey,” she said, “and I get a hormone refill. I become feminine again, and I attract the masculine men.” She settled back into the sofa. The lines in her face softened as I watched, and her body became languid again. The boy vanished. Chablis was Chablis again. She smiled.

“I don’t overdo the hormones,” she said. “When I get too much of them, I don’t climax. So I get off them now and then just to relieve the tension. I don’t like to be lifeless down there. I take just enough hormones to give me that feminine glow and keep a chest on me.”

Chablis went into the bedroom and came back carrying a black dress and a cigar box full of bugle beads. “You don’t mind if I do a little sewin’, do you, honey?” She threaded a short string of beads and stitched it to the dress. “A girl’s gotta sparkle!” She shook the dress. Hundreds of bugle beads swayed and glittered. She strung some more beads, then looked up from her threading. “Ever put on a dress?”

“No,” I said.

“Never even wanted to?”

“No.”

“Well, honey, I never wanted to wear anything else! I been into women’s clothes so long I have no idea what men’s size I am. I’m serious. I gave up on men’s clothes when I was sixteen. I started puttin’ on makeup and wearin’ little earrings to school, and slacks and blouses. For me it was the natural thing to do. I was always effeminate, and I was always called a sissy or a fag
or a girl. So I didn’t feel I had anything to hide. And I just liked girls’ clothes.”

“How did your family take all this?” I asked.

“My father and my mother were divorced when I was five. I grew up with my mother, and I would visit my father up north every summer. He hated the way I was. His whole side of the family hated me. When he died, I went to his funeral in a dress, and I had this gorgeous white boy on my arm. They were appalled, honey, they were horrified! Especially my aunt. She started in on me at the funeral in front of everybody, and I told her to get out of my face or I’d say something about her own son she might not want to hear. So I stay away from that side of the family, honey. I don’t clientele with them.”

“Clientele?”

“Yeah, I don’t have anything to do with them. I don’t mess with them. Mama’s different though. She has a big ol’ photograph of me bein’ crowned Miss World, and it’s Hangin’ in her living room. She taught me not to worry about things that don’t matter. She has a motto that I love: ‘Two tears in a bucket. Motherfuck it.’ That’s Mama, she’s a okay girl.”

Chablis turned up the sound on Aretha Franklin and held the dress up to herself as she stood before a full-length mirror. She churned her hips in time to the music. The beads bounced.
“Yayyiss
, honey! When the drums roll, the bugle beads
floooowwww!
Look at them beads, baby!
Flawless!”
She turned toward me again. “You
sure
you never wanted to put on a dress?”

“Yes, I’m sure,” I said. “What makes you think I would?”

“Oh, nothin’. But you never can tell. That much I’ve learned, honey! I used to go to straight parties in Atlanta. They’d pay me a hundred dollars. I’d be announced at the door, you know, as Tina Turner or Donna Summer, and then I’d mix with the guests. Everybody knew I was really a drag queen. But I’d look like Tina or Donna, because I’d be wearin’ a wig. I’d talk like Cha-blis, though, and I’d have a good time and so would they. Anyway, these gorgeous macho men would come up to me and ask for my phone number, and
ooooo!
I’d go home all excited. Then
a couple days later they would call for a date. Well, honey, come to find out most of them really wanted me to dress ’em up in panty hose and walk all over ’em in high-heeled shoes!

“So you never can tell, child. You never know. When I see a gorgeous hunk, honey, I don’t assume nothin’. More men are into dresses than you think. Us upfront drag queens is just the tip of the iceberg. Just the teeniest tip!”

“Do you ever feel like going out in the street in a suit and tie?” I asked. “Just for the hell of it?”

“If I went out without my drag, honey, those rednecks would clock me for the big sissy I am and kick my ass. I am serious. I’d be more paranoid out of drag than in it. But there’s somethin’ else that does worry me. Here in Savannah, I mean. Know what it is? walkin’ down the street as a couple with a white boy.
That
makes me paranoid in Savannah.”

“Don’t you ever date blacks? Don’t you ever go to black bars?”

“No-no-no. I don’t go up in there, child. That’s something y’mama don’t play. Uh-uh, I don’t play up in them black bars, baby. Black boys will hit on you just like that the minute you walk in. They try to make a move on you and ‘Hey, Mama!’ you and ‘Honey’ you to death. I don’t play that. Black boys are so aggressive, honey. It’s nothin’ for them to come up and start touchin’ you and hittin’ on you and stuff, even if you’re with somebody.

“Oh, I know black boys have their points, honey. I had a white roommate in Atlanta once, a real girl, and she
loved
black men. You know how those white girls get when they get a piece of black dick, honey. Black dick will wear you out! It will make you wanna write all your checks.”

Chablis stitched a string of beads onto the dress. “That’s just another reason I like my white boys,” she said. “Plus, when black boys find out my T, honey, they be ready to kick my ass.”

“Your T?”

“Yeah, my T. My thing, my business, what’s goin’ on in my life.”

“You mean, you’ve dated guys without telling them about yourself?”

“Y-e-e-e-s, honey. And when they find out, they either kick my ass or they wanna
love
me. They reach down there to feel somethin’ soft and wet, and they feel somethin’ else that ain’t so soft and ain’t so wet. Know what I mean?”

“Then what happens?”

“One black guy put a gun to my head. We’d partied for hours, and he’d spent lots of money on me and showed me off to all his friends and everything. At the end of the night we went home and was lyin’ in bed just huggin’ and kissin’ fully clothed, and he kept wantin’ to touch me down there, and I kept sayin’ no-no-no. And he kept sayin’, ‘Why won’t you let me touch you down there?’ And I said, ‘I promise you, you don’t want to be touchin’ me down there, child.’ And we went back to huggin’ and kissin’ again, and then he finally caught me off guard and touched me down there. And before I knew it, he pulled a gun and put it to my head. He said, ‘I’ll kill you, you sonofabitch! I’ll fuckin’ blow your damn brains out! You made a big fool out of me!’ I told him nobody knew nothin’. I said, ‘You didn’t even know, and you were the closest thing to me, so let’s just leave it at that. We had a good time, child, and if you’re gonna blow my brains out, go ahead and blow ’em out and get it over with and get that gun out of my face because you’re scarin’ me to death.’ When I made that comment he laughed. And he said, ‘I’ll admit I’ve had more fun with you than I’ve had with any bitch. I’m gonna let you slide this time. But you better not pull that shit with nobody else or you’re gonna get hurt.’ That’s why I don’t play up in them black bars, honey. I don’t need no gun to my head.”

“What do white men do when they find out about your T?” I asked.

“Jeff didn’t know when he first met me. I was in this straight club. I had gone there with a bunch of my girlfriends. One of my roommates was a stripper—she was a real girl—and she would do her strip show and I would do my drag show, and then we’d
meet and go out to the straight bars and have a good time. I was just sittin’ at the bar havin’ my cocktail and smokin’ my cigarette, and I saw Jeff. He was tall and blond and gorgeous, and he just kept watchin’ me. I said to myself, ‘No, Chablis, don’t even try. Don’t mess with this straight man, ’Cause this man is too tall. He will wrap you in a knot, girl!’ He sent a drink over, and I just nodded and thanked him. Then he came over and we started talkin’. He asked me to dance, and we danced. My girlfriends saw him and they all wanted to trade boys with me. Later we all went to my place and sat around and got high all night. Everybody was coupled off, just layin’ on their boyfriends, but there was no sex at all. When Jeff got ready to leave, he asked for my phone number, and I gave it to him. I’d forgotten he didn’t know, because I was carryin’ on, sayin’ ‘Miss
Thing!’
and ‘Yeah,
girl!’
So it didn’t even occur to me he didn’t know. He called the next day and asked me to go out.

“It was so romantic. I bought a new dress, and we went to a ballroom that had a live band. Afterward, we went back to my place and started kissin’. I realized I had to tell him, but I decided not to do it till the next night. Well, the next night he took me to a basketball game, and I ran into one of my old boyfriends. This old boyfriend was the insanely jealous type, which is why I had to leave him in the first place. So he started a bunch of shit, sayin’, ‘That’s a drag queen you’re with.’ And that’s how Jeff found out. He was so hurt he just walked off and left me there. I didn’t hear from him for a week. Then he called me. He said he wasn’t into men. I said, ‘I’m not a man, bitch, don’t call me no man!’ Then he asked me, ‘Well, what do you got between your legs?’ I said, ‘That’s for me to know and for you to find out.’ So he said, ‘Well, whatever you are, I like you. I can’t get you off my mind, and as long as we can be friends, I want to see you again.’

“I said that was fine with me. So he started comin’ on my job and watchin’ me do shows, and he got hooked. After a while, we started having sex, and we became lovers. I even went to see his parents. They live out on the southside. They’re Baptists, honey,
and they thought I was Jeff’s girlfriend Chris. I had Thanksgiving dinner with them and Christmas too, and they liked me and had no earthly idea. But after a few months, they realized I was not just a passing fling. Their son was really in love with me. That’s when they had a problem: I was black. They started watchin’ me very closely. I could feel it. They were lookin’ to catch my ass in the slightest mistake. I really had to be on my guard. Then one time they acted very strangely toward me. They were givin’ me funny looks, child. I could tell somethin’ was wrong. Jeff’s mama got me alone after dinner. She said, ‘Chris, let’s you and me just sit here in the living room and have a little talk.’ Honey, the ol’ girl was nervous as a cat.

“She said, ‘Chris, there’s something I’ve been wondering about. It’s something that I know is very private with you, and I respect your privacy. But my son is involved with you, and I have to know. I want you to answer me truthfully.’ Well, child, my heart nearly stopped. I looked around just to check out where the door was, in case I had to get outta there real fast. Then she said, ‘Tell me. Honestly. Are you pregnant?’

“Well, I was so relieved. For the first time in my life I didn’t have an answer. My mouth dropped open, and I grabbed my stomach. When I did that, she screamed and ran out of the room.